


Ice Cream or Cigarettes

by literary_shitstorm



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and takes extreme measures, andrew is self conscious, im sorry for writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-16 03:35:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20182213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literary_shitstorm/pseuds/literary_shitstorm
Summary: Sighing, Andrew snatched the cigarettes that Neil, most likely, had pulled out of his back pocket and drew his lighter to his lips. Smoking laws be damned.“It’s obvious, Junkie, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect so much when it comes to you.”“For fucks sake Andrew-““I’m getting fat, Neil.”Or, Andrew gains a bit of weight due to his eating habits and decides to take extreme measures.





	Ice Cream or Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings; self-destructive methods, eating disorders

There weren’t many things that Andrew could find himself associating with the word comfort: Bee, armbands, _Neil_. One thing that he could always rely on to light the slightest hint of warmth in his belly was food. Specifically, junk food. He didn’t know who or how or why or _what?_ It was one of the few things about himself that he found continuously baffling and could never seem to come to a reasonable conclusion about.

Many people had addressed him regarding his eating habits over the years, bothering him with their many theories as to why he found such security in his sugary snacks: Bee had suggested that maybe it was due to his lack of access to food in his younger years; Andrew had come to bare no secrets when it came to her and she was well aware of the hardships he was forced through in his youth- the wrenching feeling of starvation in his gut had been one he’d become painfully acquainted within some of his grislier foster homes. Abby had come forward with another idea after Kevin had mentioned it in the locker rooms during his first year at Palmetto; she said that one of the side effects listed with his medication could be an increased appetite. Of course, he knew this already; but Abby and Kevin were acting under the assumption that this was something that had come about during his medicated period. The truth was it stretched back much further than he’d care to admit. So he politely told Kevin to _fuck off and mind his own business_. Even Aaron had pestered him once, over a sundae at Sweeties’, not that he cared enough to listen to that one.

As far as Andrew could tell, the truth was that as long as he’d lived he’d always craved a high, some kind of buzz to draw him away from the bore of simply existing in limbo. Food seemed to be the tamest of his vices, the others taking form over the years in the shape of cigarette cartons and the warm burn of whiskey in his chest. Nothing quelled the symptoms of a bad day quite like stale cigarette smoke, a full stomach and, in his more recent years, a certain fiery-haired striker. Neil didn’t seem to bat an eyelid as he passed him pints of ice cream from the freezer or when Andrew diverted him with a simple call on Neil’s morning runs: _you know why I’m calling, fucking Junkie_. Neil would only laugh and give him some kind of hum of approval before Andrew could hang up, he was sickening.

Andrew had never cared about his reckless intake of calories. If Kevin or anybody thought that he was going to give up one of the few things that gave him the slightest semblance of what _might just be happiness_, they could go and fuck themselves. It was only on an off morning in Columbia that he found his attention piqued by a _new development_. He found himself on one of those rare mornings where he woke before Neil, taking a second to glance over at his boyfriend with his sex-mussed red curls and the light hitting his face just right- fucking disgusting. He had slid out of bed, opened his draws, gone to pull on his shorts- _tried_ to pull on his shorts. Now, he’d never been the skinniest, certainly packing more muscle in the thighs as he’d grown over the years and the shorts weren’t exactly the baggiest pair that he owned, but this was an entirely new experience. He’d even paused to check the tag and make sure they weren’t a stray pair of Neil’s- nope, his. _For fucks sake he couldn’t get them over his fucking ass_. Glaring at himself in the mirror, he’d ended up settling for a pair of loose sweatpants and one of Neil’s ridiculously large hoodies and gone about his day as normal. He even poured extra syrup on his pancakes out of _spite_.

He would’ve like to say that it was the only time that it bothered him, but he found himself stuck in similar situations much too often for his liking. A belt that had to be put on a hole (or two) looser. A ‘baggy’ t-shirt clinging to his hips and stomach more than it should’ve done. It took him weeks to admit that he needed to go and buy a new pair of jeans, only humming when Neil had inquired because _of course, the stickball junkie could tell that he’d brought new jeans_. To make matters worse, in his recent panic (although he’d never call it that), he’d found himself craving more than he had ever done in the past. Before now Andrew had never understood people’s desperation to stay in shape and look good constantly, hell, he’d taunted Aaron a few times for that very thing. Andrew’s life had presented him with more important things to worry about.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Andrew Minyard found himself unhappy with the way that he looked.

* * *

Things only got worse when people began to acknowledge the extra padding on Andrew’s figure. He’d noticed Kevin’s eyes drag over him meticulously in the changing rooms, scrutinizing him with every flick of his pupils. Andrew finally understood Neil’s wish to hide away in the showers as Kevin met his gaze with a look of disdain and disapproval- not that he’d ever admit it. Instead, he simply flipped Kevin the bird before pulling his jersey over his head. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, why was this bothering him so much?_

Andrew didn’t know if it was one of his various disorders that was causing the grating feeling on his skin, the pit in his stomach swooping as he felt everyone’s eyes on him. Everyone but Neil, of course. Neil as usual was oblivious to certain things, greeting Andrew with his usual pleased hum. _How do you not fucking notice?_ The voice in his head ripped to the forefront of his mind. _Hearing voices again, Minyard? Maybe you need to be medicated._ He resisted the urge to snort at that one. “Yes or no?” Neil had sighed, tugging at the bandana that pulled his hair from his eyes, revolting. Andrew, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, pulled out of Neil’s space, shaking his head whilst maintaining a stony expression.

For a split second he saw the worry flicker across his boyfriend’s eyes before Neil regained himself and offered Andrew a small smile. _Goddamn him, fuck._

* * *

Jack, the bastard, had waited until Neil had left the changing rooms after practice to make his move. Andrew didn’t care what the brat thought and he _sure as shit_ wasn’t scared of him, but the words that ripped through Jack’s gritted teeth felt all too much like old knives in his skin.

* * *

That was how he found himself where he was, five days later. Since the practice he could barely bring himself to eat even the tiniest of mouthfuls. The only thing that had passed his lips was a few nibbles of dry cracker to keep him going for just a little longer when the black seemed to cloud his vision just little too much. Mostly, he had been curbing himself with more cigarettes than he could ever remember smoking before.

Andrew was no stranger to self-destruction. In a similar way to his crave for a high, the urge to self-destruct seemed to rear its ugly head time and time again. It was the first time he’d dealt with it like this, _that’s for fucking sure_, but in essence every time was the same. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how dangerous what he was doing was- _self-destructive not stupid_\- that’s what he’d once said. He’d simply carry on until he lost enough weight: he wasn’t suicidal, he planned to eat once he got hungry enough but until then he was content with the gnawing in his torso. He’d carry on until he reached a healthy weight and then maybe he could coheres Kevin into mapping him out one of his _shitty fucking diet plans._

Neil had been, begrudgingly, the hardest part of the situation. He was far too good, far too good for Andrew. Neil had accepted his wish to be left alone for the time being without protest, simply offering Andrew the smallest of smiles he could muster and vanishing off to class. The lingering sadness in his boyfriend’s eyes tugged and Andrew’s heart in a way he didn’t know he was capable of. _Fucking Junkie probably thinks that whatever this is is his fault_. But over the past month or so, Andrew had found it increasingly harder to deal with his too-hot boyfriend with his toned stomach and lithe build. Every time he woke up to Neil and the sheets strew too low across his hips he couldn’t restrain the thoughts that told him the same thing they had all those years ago: _you will never be loved._

With Aaron constantly away with Katelyn, Kevin alternating between practice and trying to cultivate a relationship with his newfound father, Nicky away with Erik (who had come to stay for a few months- much to _everybody’s_ misfortune) there was no one else left around his immediate vicinity who could possibly notice the change that he was forcing himself through. Renee had raised a worried eyebrow at the lack of heat behind his punches, but knew better than to press. Bee hadn’t mentioned the black sweater that seemed to swamp his form despite the scathing South Carolina heat. 

* * *

Everything was going to plan until it wasn’t. Andrew had found himself more and more satisfied with the results of his _challenge_ day after day, finally able to trace the outline of the muscles on his stomach as he had once been able to do in his earlier years at Palmetto. He’d also found that after making substantial progress, he found it easier to stomach Neil’s quite frankly invasive presence. He was still denying anything further than quaint kisses and slight touches above the shoulders. As always the man respected his boundaries without question. Neil, like too many people in his life, knew better than to pry into the mess of Andrew’s mind on a bad day. Idiot.

It was on a mundane Thursday practice that shit hit the fan, funnily enough exactly a month after his experience with Kevin and Jack. He had barely moved the entire time, simply haunted the outskirts of the goal with a blank exterior and allowed the team to take shots as they pleased, much to their chagrin. It was only when Neil had appeared next in line that Andrew had felt the urge to surge forward and try everything he could to combat Neil’s assured smirk; God, he really ground Andrew’s fucking gears. It was only when he took a step forward that the black bled into his vision much too fast for him to stop it.

* * *

As Abby’s room in Reddin Medical Centre materialised in Andrew’s sight his head felt like it was being torn apart by a sledgehammer, viciously pounding with every breath that shook its way through his lungs.  
“Good Evening, sleeping beauty,” Abby’s singsong voice was almost taunting, but there was an undeniable edge of softness in its tone, “Christ, Andrew,” she seemed to darken, “What were you thinking?” Andrew didn’t have the strength or time to process her question, he was too aware of the lack of black coating his wrists and the stab of a needle in his forearm every time he flexed ever so slightly. Abby knew about his scars, obviously, but the _nerve of her_ to rid him of his sense of security while he was unconscious set off all too familiar alarm bells in his brain. He recklessly tried to surge forwards from the bed, only to be met with not only one set of worried hands, but two. In his dazed state he’d forgotten to scan the rest of the room- _how had he forgotten to scan the rest of the room?_ Neil was staring at him with a look of equal worry and anger creasing his brows, long slender fingers making soothing motions in the air around Andrew’s body. Of course, Neil wouldn’t touch him without his permission.

Abby ran through his medical analysis, listing the adverse effects that his lack of sustenance over the past month had led to whilst Neil sat slumped in the corner, flinching ever so slightly whenever Abby mentioned the words _starving_ or _harm_. She also told him that Bee had been told about the development and she had taken the liberty of booking him and appointment for first thing the following morning.  
“Abby,” Neil’s voice crackled with misuse, “Can you give us a minute?” The slim crow’s feet around Abby’s eyes crinkled as she allowed a small smile to grace her lips,  
“Of course, Neil, just tell me when you’re ready for me to come back,” she threw a hesitant look in Andrew’s direction, “I have a few more little tests that I have to run.” With that final statement, she left Andrew and Neil alone in a room so tense the oxygen seemed to be choking him.

“Why?” Neil’s voice started quiet, almost meek, before rising to something a lot stronger, “Why would you do something like this, ‘Drew? I thought things were going better…” he faltered, “I thought you’d tell me if something was bothering you.” That felt like a knife twisting in his gut, aching much more than his now curbed hunger ever had. _He couldn’t let Neil see that now, could he?_ Instead he scoffed, making sure to emphasize the roll of his eyes,  
“I’m not going to apologize if that’s what you’re after.”  
“Andrew-“ Neil looked exasperated, “I don’t want you to fucking apologize! I want you to tell me, speak to me- God, just give me something.” The fact that Neil was demanding answers told Andrew all that he needed to know; under normal circumstances his boyfriend would never demand anything of him, the fact that Neil was willing to resort to that showed just how desperate he was. Sighing, Andrew snatched the cigarettes that Neil, most likely, had pulled out of his back pocket and drew his lighter to his lips. Smoking laws be damned.  
“It’s obvious, Junkie, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect so much when it comes to you.”  
“_For fucks sake Andrew-_“  
“I’m getting fat, Neil.”

Andrew had to resist the urge to weave his fingers in Neil’s hair at the way seemed to jolt out of all movement, inappropriate timing and all those other tedious expectations. The expression that morphed onto across Neil’s face was one of pure confusion and almost, _almost_ what Andrew would deem to be heartbreak; his brows hung low on his face and his eyes darted around, craving elaboration on the blunt statement. It took him a few tries to find his words before he finally let out a strained,  
“’Drew…what?”  
“I don’t repeat myself.”  
“Is this some kind of joke? Andrew, you’re not fat in the slightest- and even if you were that wouldn’t be a problem- but you’re an athlete ‘Drew. You’re hardly obese,” Andrew could hear the stress in his boyfriend’s voice, _how could he care so fucking much?_  
“People always joked about how the ice cream would catch up to me,” he sneered, “Don’t act like you didn’t notice.”  
“Yes, ‘Drew, okay! I noticed,” Neil’s voice was sharp this time, before softening along with the look in his eyes, “But I didn’t say anything because I _liked_ it.” Andrew could only hope that Neil wouldn’t notice the way he froze, the way he tended to purse his lips and clench his jaw when he had no clue how to react to the information presented to him. Reading his lack of reaction, Neil instead continued, the line of eye contact between them almost blazing, “Andrew, I always think you’re handsome. Yeah, you gained a bit of weight- perfectly healthy, for your information- and you decide to react like this.”  
“Self-destructive,” he reminded, “not stupid.”  
“No,” Neil’s voice was strong, but he’d have to be deaf to miss the wavering at the end of the word, “Andrew this was _stupid_. You’re everything to me, fucking hell ‘Drew, I don’t know what I’d do if I’d lost you to something like this.”

All of a sudden reality seemed to crash around Andrew in a way that tore into his gut much more than any kind of starvation had. This was real. He could have died. This was much more than Andrew starving himself, it was him reinstating the habits that he’d allowed himself to succumb to years prior. After years of work with Bee and Abby and Neil, Andrew had still slipped back into old habits. He knew it shouldn’t, but the burn in his throat felt an awful like _failure_.

The only difference between then and now is that now Andrew knew what he had to do. Years ago, Andrew had suffered a total loss of control in his life and in turn had nobody to share his problems with. He’d had nobody he cared enough to help him change his toxic ways. Now, he didn’t need people to share his problems for him, he knew what needed to be done.

“I’m going to call Bee,” after minutes of silence his voice was quiet, but the tension seemed to bleed from Neil’s body and a small relieved smile found its way onto his lips. Andrew had done the right thing.  
“Do you want me to wait outside?”  
“Yes or no, Josten?” Andrew made sure to restore at least some of the malice to his tone, only making his boyfriend’s smile spread even wider.  
“It’s always a yes with you.” Andrew, in spite of Abby’s work, tore the needle from his arm and moved over the bed, making room for Neil to curl onto the uncomfortable mattress with him, “Where can I touch you?”  
“Hair,” was all Andrew said, too busy pulling his phone from the bedside table and flicking through his contacts. They both reached states of comfort as Andrew pressed dial, allowing his head to rest on Neil’s chest as the younger man knotted his fingers in his hair, pulling softly through the silky strands. It was rare that he let himself be the one in this position, the one being cared for- tonight he could make the acceptation. “Hello Bee.”

* * *

Andrew Minyard was nowhere near mentally healthy, stable or even sane, but after years of letting himself suffer he was _finally_ ready to take the pain away.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi if you made it this far! I feel like the ending to this one was a little rushed but its been sat in my documents for a few weeks now and I thought I may as well clean it up a little bit and post it.
> 
> I really tried to capture Andrew's character here but _oh jeez he is hard to write_, i'm aware that the situation is quite out of character but oh well, I had the idea
> 
> Check me out on tumblr (my name is the same over there if this doesn't work dammnit)


End file.
